Pretty White Jasmine
by DevilJinNina
Summary: It's Greta's birthday, what will be Brahms' gift? Rated M to be sure


Greta woke up in the middle of the night, sweating, her heart pounding like a herd wild bulls

She looked around, no signs of Cole trying to beat her

Strange, she could have sworn she felt someone touching her bare legs and feet

Greta sighed and took a quick look at the clock

' _2 o'clock a.m., happy birthday Greta_ ' she thought to herself

Suddenly, she had the urge to pee

"Now? Why not at 6:35 a.m. as usual?"

The only response to her own question was a creaking noise coming from the wall

"Guess I'll never know huh?"

Greta got up from bed and went to the bathroom

After she washed her hand, she looked herself in the mirror

She had big dark circles under her eyes

Her nightmares won't give her peace and she doubted they were going to stop anytime soon

When she came back, Brahms was on her bed under the covers

Greta smiled, her little boy was in need of tender care

' _I bet he misses his parents, it's a month and a half now without them…'_

"Bad dreams, Brahmsy?"

She get into bed next to him and hugged the doll

"Don't worry, I'm here now" she said stroking his hair gently

After a couple of minutes of silence, curiosity took over Greta

"Do you miss them Brahmsy, your parents?"

Silence again, obviously…

Thousand questions were running through her mind, unspoken, but the various looks on her face asked them all

Not long after, she heard Brahms whispering her name

He seemed sad, but more importantly, the voice wasn't the one of the young boy she knew

It was a man's voice

It made her skin crawl

Thinking her imagination got the best of her, Greta closed her eyes shut and allowed herself to fall asleep, even if her instinct told her more than once to run away from that house, she won't.

For Brahms.

* * *

The next morning came quickly and Brahms was woken up by a peculiar smell coming from the kitchen

He stretched his muscles and yawned

Brahms took a look at the clock

It was already midday!

He wanted to sleep more, yesterday he stayed awake more than necessary only to admire Greta's delicate features struck by the moonlight

* * *

Brahms was sitting on the bed next to Greta and took off his mask to get a better look at her

Her dark chestnut hair glowed like silk

She wasn't pretty…

Her skin can be easily compared to a porcelain doll and it's softness… he couldn't hope for something better

She wasn't beautiful…

Her body, covered in a white babydoll, was sinuous like a mermaid

Electricity coursed through him, his heartbeat accelerated and his breath became heavy

She was perfect

Brahms couldn't resist and touched her hair, his index moving down to her soft, pink lips

They were so warm…

He leaned toward her, his finger traced the side of her neck and reached the collarbone

He stopped when he heard her moan

Unconsciously, he let out a deep loud growl

Bewildered, Brahms tapped his mouth as the sound was already out

Fortunately for him, Greta was sleeping like a rock

After realising she wouldn't wake up, he had an idea…

* * *

Heading to the kitchen, he could hear Greta talking to the other Brahms claiming that today was a special day or something like that, most of his attention was on the mouth watering smell of food

He was so hungry he could eat a whole elephant, literally

Arrived at destination he patiently waited for Greta to finish her meal

In the meantime, Brahms gazed at her

Her hair was curly, she had some kind of… something on the lips, red precisely, she wore a blue dress, the one he borrowed with all the others in order to trick her… it fitted her like a glove.

When Greta moved, it could be heard a 'tap tap' sound… 'high heels' he believed her mom called them once

' _She is stunning today, I wonder what's the occasion'_

He wanted to touch her, to feel her, to smell her sweet skin scent

Tonight

Unconsciously, Brahms caressed the wall

"Can you guess which day is Brahmsy?" Greta asked the doll while she was loading the dishwasher

'… _No? Payday?'_

"It's my birthday!" she responded with a brilliant smile

' _Oh happy birthday my pretty Greta, I guess I should give you a gift… perhaps…'_

Brahms smirked

Yes, tonight is the night

* * *

Greta wore her white babydoll and was ready to go under the warm covers, she got out of the bathroom and found a letter and a painting on her bed

Greta stepped toward them curiously and focused on the letter first

The letter was well written, not exactly child-like

Her skin crawl, that sensation of danger barging in again

' _Maybe ghosts grow up, sort of? Certainly he is…'_

Greta red the letter once more

" _Dear Greta,_

 _I would like to give you my congratulations in person but I can't, so…_

 _Happy birthday my beloved Greta, have a nice day_

 _Tonight go outside and watch the stars,_ _if you see a shooting star passing by close your eyes and make a wish._

 _It worked for me, I wished for a lovely young lady like you_

 _As for your questions… believe me, I'm never going to let you go._

 _Not now not_ _ever, understand?_

 _I hope you appreciate my painting called "Pretty White Jasmine", I did it thinking about you and it belongs to you now, consider it as a gift_

 _Forever yours,_

 _Brahms"_

Greta didn't know what to say or think, so she put down the letter and took a look at the painting

What she saw was… unexpected

DEFINITELY not child-like

The painting was representing Greta sleeping on her bed full of jasmines, and jasmines were covering the most important parts of her naked body

At the bottom of the painting there was something written

Something that made Greta's hands tremble

'You're the prettiest girl I ever met that smelled so good'

' _Long time ago, Cole used to say to his friends: "I swear nothing can compare Greta's jasmine scent, not even the flower itself!" he was so proud of me, that asshole'_

Brahms wasn't a boy, he was a MAN

Her instinct was right all this time

' _How could he know about my smell? Surely spirits don't go and sniff living humans, they shouldn't be able to…_

 _Okay Greta let's not panic: do as nothing happened, go to sleep and today call Malcolm. Even if Brahms is a man, a teenager or a boy afflicted with early puberty, he's still a spirit… right?'_

Greta swallowed and then said out loud, trying to keep her voice firm

"Thanks Brahms, I really appreciate your gifts. I'm going to sleep now, I'm very tired. Good night"

She put both the gifts on the counter and went under the covers

' _There it must be another explanation, that white... who cares 'bout the painting, tomorrow Malcolm will be here and… and then what?'_

Greta closed her eyes shut

' _And then we'll find a solution'_

Greta dreamt of a dead Malcolm lying on the floor and a shadow looming over her, trapping her in this golden cage called Heelshire's mansion for her entire life

* * *

Brahms was crouched behind the wall, spying Greta's reactions while she was scrutinizing the painting

He knew it was a risk of letting her doubt his age

' _She must be thinking I'm a teenager or a boy afflicted by early puberty at the most'_

No matter

One day Greta will understand

One day Greta will be his

Only his

Soon, very soon

Brahms smirked and thought if his pretty sweet jasmine became aware of the particular white he used to create the painting…


End file.
